Let Darkness Come

by Angela Hunt

  “Some of the firm’s attorneys,” William offers, “believe the defendant should testify no matter what, because no juror is going to acquit unless they hear the defendant say ‘I didn’t do it.’ Others aren’t willing to take the chance. I mean, what if the client gets up there and loses his cool?” A blush colors his cheeks as he looks over at Erin. “Not that you would do that.”

  Erin manages a weak smile, then stabs a plastic fork into a carton of kung pao. “I’ve never had any cool to lose.”

  “Erin’s done real well in rehearsal.” Briley sends her client a reassuring smile, then picks up a spare quarter and rubs her thumbnail over the serrated edge. “I could almost flip for it,” she says. “Heads, she testifies. Tails, she doesn’t.”

  “I vote for putting her on the stand.” Kate crosses her arms. “First of all, you’ll be able to address the injuries to her face. No one’s explained them, and the jurors want to know what happened. I can see questions in their eyes.”

  Briley makes a note on her legal pad. “That’s a good point.”

  “Second,” Kate continues, “Erin’s a calm and reasonable person. When the jury sees how soft-spoken she is, they’re bound to realize the brother-in-law was lying through his teeth when he said she picked fights with Jeffrey.”

  “Jason’s testimony is forcing our hand,” Briley admits. “But I don’t think any of the jurors believed him.”

  “I wouldn’t be too sure about that.” William waves a chunk of fortune cookie for emphasis. “Think about it—having a twin testify is almost like having the victim call for justice from the grave. I think the jury is going to give Jason’s testimony a great deal of weight.”

  “But Jason is nothing like Jeffrey,” Briley protests. “Jason may look like his brother, but he doesn’t have the same appeal. He doesn’t have Jeffrey’s charisma.”

  Kate nods. “I have to agree with William. Jason may have fabricated his story, but he held those jurors in the palm of his hand. And in case you haven’t noticed, the Tomassi men draw a lot of favorable attention just by breathing. Jason may be a liar, but he’s also an Adonis.”

  “Even the old man is good-looking,” William admits. “They’ve all got that Italian-machismo thing going for them.”

  The trio falls silent and eats, the silence broken only by the tick and buzz of fluorescent bulbs. Briley is wondering if any of the others have considered the possibility that Jason might be the man who assaulted her, when William unfolds the fortune from his cookie and peers at the tiny type: “The soul that gives is the soul that lives.”

  Kate makes a face. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Fortunes aren’t supposed to be interpreted. You’re supposed to accept them in all their profundity.” William shifts his gaze to Briley. “It’s almost time. So…are you still going with parasomnia? Or are we going to try to pin this one on whoever killed JonBenet?”

  Not wanting to unnerve her client, Briley gives William a warning glance, but Erin is focused on eating, her fork dipping into the cardboard carton as if she hasn’t had a decent meal in weeks.

  Briley props her chin on her hand. If only the stakes weren’t so high. In her previous cases, a mistake in judgment might result in a sentence of a few extra months or years. In this case, Erin could pay for Briley’s mistakes with her life.

  “I’m considering,” she says, keeping her voice low, “the cockroach defense.”

  Kate gives her a skeptical look. “What’s that?”

  “It’s used when you have no clear option, so you settle for crawling all over the other side.”

  William snorts. Briley glances at her client, afraid she’ll see a stricken look on Erin’s face, but apparently the woman isn’t following the conversation.

  “Are you serious?” Kate asks.

  Briley shrugs. “Halfway. If I throw up every defense I can think of, something might stick.”

  “Or it’ll all land at your feet with a big splat,” William says. “Since that’s the most likely scenario, I think you should stick with diminished capacity.”

  “Based on…?”

  “The sleeping pills,” he answers. “That’s a viable defense. Precedents have been set, defendants have been acquitted.”

  “Maybe.” Briley taps the end of her pen against the table. “I just keep thinking about Lisa Marie and wondering whether Erin would be better off spending a few years in prison or an indefinite period in a mental hospital. But some of those places can be worse than jail.”

  “Do you think—” Kate glances at Erin “—the Tomassis know about the invisible friend?”

  Briley shakes her head. “Jason would have mentioned Lisa Marie if he knew. That testimony would have bought our client a one-way ticket to a hospital for the criminally insane.”

  “Unless the family doesn’t want her to be mentally ill.” William cracks open another fortune cookie. “After all, the mentally ill can be cured, and cured patients are eventually released from the hospital. Something tells me the Tomassis want Erin to suffer for more than a few years.”

  Briley closes her eyes, not wanting to admit that William is most likely right. “Mental illness,” she says, “is not an acceptable defense. Except for Erin’s attachment to an invisible friend, she is as sane as we are.”

  Kate nods, then speaks in a barely audible whisper. “But if that attachment led to murder, shouldn’t she be convicted and sent away for treatment? Have you ever thought about what might happen if next year Lisa Marie kills a neighbor? Or a child?”

  Panic wells in Briley’s throat as she stares at Kate. “Not until now.”

  “Relax, you’re forgetting about the shrink.” William offers Briley a bit of the broken cookie. “She tested your client and found her completely harmless, remember? You can have her counter Jason’s testimony about Erin being unstable. The doc will say she’s merely imaginative.”

  Relief washes over Briley as she waves the cookie away. William is right; there’s no cause for worry. Her client is neither insane nor guilty, and Briley needs to be steadier in her resolve. If she wants the jury to believe in Erin’s innocence, she must believe in it, too.

  “I plan to use Dr. Lu,” she says, “and I’m going to let her address all the issues we’ve discussed, including Erin’s so-called delusion. The only thing that concerns me is the possibility that Bystrowski will go on a fishing expedition during cross-examination. I don’t want the jury to hear that Erin thinks her invisible friend committed the murder.”

  She looks up, seeking William’s and Kate’s approval, and finds it in their eyes.

  Kate points to the quarter in Briley’s hand. “You gonna flip that thing or not?”

  Briley tosses the coin into the air, catches it, and turns it between her palms. Then she lifts her right hand, but doesn’t look at the quarter. “It’s heads.” She meets Kate’s wry gaze. “We’re putting Erin on the stand.”

  William strokes his mustache. “Are you absolutely certain?”

  “You bet. In fact, I’m going to call her first. Might as well lay our cards on the table and go for broke.”

  William’s uncertain look morphs into a horrified expression of disapproval. “But what if you lose?”

  Briley leans closer. “Then I hope Erin gets a far better lawyer to handle her appeal.”

  After the lunch recess, the prosecution officially rests its case.

  When the judge looks toward the defense table, Briley stands. “Your Honor,” she says, bracing herself on the desk, “the defense would like to request a directed verdict for acquittal. We contend that the prosecution has failed to present sufficient evidence to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that the defendant is guilty of the crime with which she has been charged.”

  The request is routine, and she doesn’t expect a favorable answer. So she’s not surprised when Judge Trask leans forward and gives her a smile that is ten percent politeness and ninety percent challenge. “The defense’s motion for a directed verdict is denied.
Counselor, call your first witness.”

  Briley swallows hard. “The defense calls Erin Tomassi to the stand.”

  Bystrowski and his team sit motionless, frozen in a tableau of astonishment, as the court clerk repeats the name and stands to administer the oath. Erin walks forward with stiff dignity and shivers as she maneuvers around Briley. Her heels clunk against the wooden platform beneath the witness chair. But when the clerk asks if she swears to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, her response is loud and clear: “I do.”

  Briley glances at her notes. If all goes well, she will help Erin present her story without tears or histrionics or any mention of Lisa Marie.

  When Erin appears comfortable in the simple oak chair, Briley steps behind the lectern and looks directly at her client. “Mrs. Tomassi, do you understand the nature of the charges you are facing here today?”

  Erin nods, her face somber. “I do. I’ve been accused of killing my husband, Jeffrey.”

  “Did you? Did you take a syringe and inject your husband with an overdose of insulin?”

  “No.” Erin’s voice wavers as she looks at the jury. “As God is my witness, I didn’t. I would never hurt anyone if I could help it.”

  Briley steps to the side of the lectern, relaxing her posture and her approach. “Thank you, Erin. Let’s go back and review some of your personal history. Have you ever been in trouble with the law?”

  Erin blushes. “Not until this.”

  “Not even a parking ticket?”

  “No.”

  “No period of teenage rebellion?”

  She lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “I had no one to rebel against. My father died when I was young, and my mother didn’t seem to care what I did.”

  “Why didn’t your mother care?”

  Erin lowers her gaze. “She drank a lot.”

  “Growing up, did you have siblings? Someone to keep you company?”

  “I have a brother, Roger. But social services took him away before I started school.”

  “Why did they take him?”

  “He has Down syndrome. Apparently my mother wasn’t able to properly care for him.”

  “Does he live with your mother now?”

  “No, he lives in a supervised group home.”

  “That must be expensive. How does Roger pay for his living arrangements?”

  “Jeffrey—my husband—and I pay the bill every month.”

  Briley watches the jury to be sure they are absorbing this testimony. They have to see Erin as a generous person, not a cold-blooded killer. “Let’s talk about your relationship with your husband. How long were you married to Jeffrey Tomassi?”

  Erin tilts her head. “Five years.”

  “Did you love him?”

  “Yes…yes, I did, though our relationship was often…difficult.”

  “How was it difficult?”

  “Jeffrey was a difficult man to please. I tried, though, because when he wasn’t happy, I couldn’t be happy. When he lost his temper, he would hit me.”

  “You have a bruise and scratches on your face now.” Briley softens her tone. “Surely you don’t want us to think your husband caused those.”

  “No.” Erin’s hand creeps to the worst welt on her cheek. “Last night at the jail…apparently some of the women don’t think I have the right to wait in line for the telephone.”

  “Some of the other inmates beat you up?”

  She nods.

  “For the record, Erin, we’ll need you to answer verbally.”

  “Yes.”

  “You seem to frequently be a victim. Do you go around picking fights?”

  Erin shrinks visibly, her shoulders hunching as she draws into her self. “I don’t fight with anyone. I hate violence. Always have.”

  “I see.” Briley surveys the jury. All fourteen of them are focused on the woman in the witness box. “Erin, do you think it’s fair to describe yourself as an abused wife?”

  Erin’s eyes narrow as a flush colors her cheeks. “I don’t like those words, but I suppose that’s what I am. Or was. I suppose that’s what I was.”

  “If you were being abused and mistreated, why didn’t you walk away from the marriage?”

  A disbelieving smile crosses Erin’s face. “You don’t walk away from the Tomassi family. Besides, Jeffrey told me he’d never let me leave. He said he’d do anything to track me down and make me regret the day I thought about walking away. I knew he wasn’t kidding, so I never even considered leaving.”

  Briley paces behind the lectern, giving the jury time to ponder Erin’s answer. “Did your husband ever strike you in public?”

  “No. Jeffrey would never let anyone see behind the mask. No one, that is, except his brother and a couple of other close friends. Jason saw Jeffrey smack me several times. But he never said anything to me about it.”

  “Erin.” Briley stops pacing. “Why did you marry Jeffrey Tomassi?”

  “Because I loved him.” Erin looks at the jury, but only for a moment, as if she were afraid to let her gaze rest on the questioning countenances in the jury box. “When Jeffrey and I were dating, I thought he was perfect. He was thoughtful, handsome, charming, and he wanted to take care of me.”

  “Did you marry Jeffrey for his money?”

  “No. I never wanted his money, though I was attracted to his lifestyle. But Jeffrey asked me to sign a prenuptial agreement, and I agreed. I understood I would never have any claim on the money he brought to the marriage.”

  Aware that some jurors might consider money a motivation for murder, Briley pushes ahead. “If you are acquitted in this trial, what will you do with your inheritance?”

  Surprise flickers in Erin’s eyes. “Jeffrey’s money?”

  “Yes.”

  “But I don’t have any right to that. I signed a prenup.”

  “A standard prenuptial agreement applies if a couple divorces,” Briley says, keeping her voice matter-of-fact. “As a widow, aren’t you entitled to your late husband’s assets?”

  Erin shakes her head. “Our contract wasn’t standard—the Tomassis wanted to guard their money. Our agreement states that if Jeffrey dies, I don’t get anything that originated with the Tomassi estate. Besides, I don’t want their money. The family can keep it.”

  “Objection, Your Honor.” Bystrowski is on his feet again, his eyes gleaming with interest. “This is hearsay. The agreement must speak for itself.”

  Briley shakes her head. “This testimony is necessary to explain Mrs. Tomassi’s motives. Her understanding of the agreement is relevant to this line of questioning.”

  The judge sits quite still, his eyes narrow, then he nods at Briley. “Objection overruled. Continue, Ms. Lester.”

  Briley smiles in relief, grateful that today, at least, the judge seems to be favoring her side of the argument. Now to drive the point home. “Erin,” she asks, “do you know who will inherit Jeffrey’s portion of the estate?”

  Erin looks at the line of Tomassis seated on the front row of the gallery. “I…I suppose Jason does. I don’t know. I never handled the money. Jeffrey told me to let our accountant deal with our finances.”

  Briley steps closer to the witness box. “Let’s talk about December 2, the night Jeffrey died. According to Detective Malone’s testimony, you told him that you went to the fundraiser for Jeffrey’s congressional campaign, and there you had an argument with your husband. Do you remember what the argument was about?”

  Erin lowers her head. “Jeffrey was upset because I forgot to pack his silk socks. Later, I told him I had a terrible headache and didn’t want to sit at a head table in front of all those people. I asked if I could go lie down in the hotel suite, but he said no. I had to sit through his speech, and then we had to dance.”

  Briley moves closer. “Did you argue with him at the event?”

  “I didn’t dare. I started to cry though, out of sheer frustration, and Jeffrey grabbed my arm. He squeezed it so tightly he left a mark.”
<
br />   “Did anyone see him grab you?”

  “I don’t think so. We were standing behind a velvet curtain, and everyone else was in the banquet hall. Jason or Antonio might have been around, but I wasn’t looking for them. I was trying not to lose sight of Jeffrey.”

  “Why?”

  “I was afraid.”

  “Of what?”

  “Afraid that if my attention wandered, he’d hit me. Maybe not at that exact moment, but later, when we got back to the house. He always let me know if I did something to upset or disappoint him.”

  Briley turns to the jury. “Erin, do you read what reporters write about you?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “Have you ever read that you usually watch your husband with ‘a wide-eyed look of adoration’?”

  Briley turns in time to see her client blush. “Yes.”

  “That’s not true, is it?”

  “Objection,” Bystrowski stands. “Your Honor, counsel for the defense is supposed to be questioning the witness about facts, not soliciting comments on gossip columns.”

  “I’ll withdraw the question.” Satisfied that the jury has taken her point, Briley retreats to the lectern. “What happened when you and your husband arrived at home in the early hours of December 3?”

  Erin shudders slightly. “I was exhausted, so—”

  “Mrs. Tomassi,” the judge interrupts, “you’ll have to speak up. Move closer to the microphone, please.”

  Erin obediently slides her chair forward. “I was exhausted,” she repeats, her voice ringing through the sound system, “and Jeff was all wound up. He was on the phone, calling his brother and some other staffers, so I went into the bathroom and took a double dose of Ambien. I hoped I’d be asleep by the time he got off the phone. I figured maybe he wouldn’t take things out on me if I were unconscious.”

  “Do you know why Jeffrey was wound up?”

  “Objection!” Bystrowski stands, vexation evident on his face. “Counsel is asking for personal opinion, not facts.”